


Kyouko

by aparticularbandit



Series: Character Sketches [2]
Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Again, Gen, idk if it's as good as i remember it, oh well, this is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 21:18:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16462499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit





	Kyouko

She landed in a half-crouch, one hand on the ground, the other against her back, gripping her spear.  The edges of her red dress fluttered faintly against her thighs as the broken witch exploded behind her.

“ _Good job, Kyoko!  You’re learning everything so quickly that soon you’ll surpass me.”  The curly-haired blonde stood only a few feet from the mess the witch left behind, a cup of tea resting in one hand.  She took a sip as Kyoko turned around and grinned when their eyes met._

_It was the first time the girl had ever seen her sempai with her hair down, and she had to admit, she was just as beautiful – perhaps more so than normal.  She blushed at the thought, dispelling her spear from its place in her right hand.  It felt so comfortable there that it gave her confidence, something she didn’t need right now, not with the other girl looking at her like that._

_Mami’s cup of tea disappeared into thin air as she bent to pick up the dark ebony grief seed the witch left behind.  She gave it a once over before standing back up and tossing it to Kyoko.  “Here.  You earned this today.”_

_The redhead caught the grief seed in one hand before transforming back.  “You sure you don’t need to use it?”_

“That won’t be necessary.”

Kyoko blinked rapidly as the witch barrier around her faded away.  Her new partner – or as close to one as she could call it – gave her a hollow look, not that this was anything other than normal.  If she didn’t know better, she would have called the new girl a zombie behind her back or accused her of being a witch herself.  All in good fun, of course.

She shook her head to clear the images of the past then pulled a packet of Pocky out of her back jeans pocket.  She shook one of the chocolate cigarette-shaped things and placed it in the right corner of her mouth.  Then, on second thought, she held the box out to the other girl as she passed by.  “Want one?”

“No.  I do not need it.”

When the girl shook her head, her long black hair fell in her face, almost as if she wasn’t used to it.  Kyoko resisted the urge to reach over and push it back.  Instead she smirked, one canine tooth biting her lip.  “Didn’t ask if ya _needed_ one, I asked if ya _wanted_ one!”  She kept the box held out, the biscuits hopefully becoming almost tantalizing.

_Hah.  That’s a laugh.  The only after snack that could be considered ‘tantalizing’ is Mami’s cakes._

The other girl hesitated, unsure, standing absolutely still.  Kyoko could see one finger twitch, fighting the urge to not take a biscuit stick.  “C’mon, Homura.  Ya’ve got to let loose sometime!”

Homura sighed and finally untransformed.  The only noticeable difference Kyoko could see was the lack of her time shield.  Sure, the colors of her partner’s school uniform were different than those of her magical girl costume, but the basic design was identical.  Passionless.  It was almost as if both were some sort of duty to her, something she couldn’t shrug off.  Things like that made the homeless Kyoko choke.

When Homura was safely in her school uniform again, she reached over and took one of the biscuits.  She stared at it blankly for a few seconds, and the fiery redhead had to bite her tongue to keep from ordering her to eat it.  Food was, after all, made to be eaten, and it wasn’t like Kyoko was starving.  Not anymore.  She watched until the girl took her first bite then shoved the nearly empty box back into her pocket.  The road felt rough under her feet, the soles on her shoes so thin that she wouldn’t have noticed if they weren’t there.  She began to shiver in the cold and pulled her blue-green jacket closer to her skinny frame.  “Look, I’d love to hang out here and chat, but—”

There was a light spark in Homura’s eyes when she looked back up at Kyoko, a few crumbs scattered about her lips.  At least it wasn’t the cold death Kyoko was used to seeing there, but it wasn’t entirely warm either.  She shivered once again.

“You’re cold.”  The words were so lifeless that she almost missed the hint of a question there, as if Homura had never thought about that before.  Before she could say anything, the other girl’s violet eyes squinted as though making a decision.  Then she said, “Do you have a place to stay?”

Kyoko opened her mouth to reply, but just as quickly shut it.  She sneered.  “Of course I have a place to stay.”  _It might be a dilapidated old cathedral with no heating, but I’m used to it by now._

Homura pressed her lips together tightly then shook her head.  “No.  You have to come with me.”  She started walking across the road in the opposite direction, barely looking up.

_When Kyoko wasn’t looking, Mami grabbed ahold of her hand, that happy smile still plastered on her face.  That smile beckoned to her, and she found that she couldn’t help but smile, too.  She laced her fingers through her sempai’s and squeezed tightly.  Then they headed back to the apartment._

The redhead looked up at the sky with a sigh, and her breath poofed white in the chilly air.  She could have said no.  But the starless sky indicated the possibility of snow or rain.  Kyoko wasn’t sure she could stand another wet night in that church, and if Homura offered—

Only a few feet ahead, Homura stopped walking, her head turned to watch Kyoko with those piercingly cold eyes.  There may have been warmth there earlier for a millisecond, but now the coal was burnt out.  Still, she had been able to bring it out – to arouse a fire, a kindling – for that moment.  With another sigh, Kyoko shoved her hands further into her jacket pockets and rushed to catch up with the girl.  This could be good, right?

Somehow she doubted that.

* * *

 

_“Kyoko, what’s wrong?”_

The words rang in her head as she stood outside Homura’s apartment, waiting for the girl to unlock the door.  She didn’t want to be here.  She didn’t want to be spending time with this girl, and she didn’t want to see inside her apartment.  She didn’t want to stay in this place, despite how warm it would be compared with her own church.  But she was willing to take the punishment.

Kyoko glanced at the nameplate and was unsurprised to find that Homura’s was the only one there, just like her old sempai’s.  Perhaps that was the fate of all magical girls – not death, but to live alone.  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to generate warmth.  “Can ya go any faster?”

Almost as soon as she spoke, the door clicked open.  Homura pushed her hair out of the way with a side swipe.  It fell back, and Kyoko resisted the urge to pull it back out of the way and tuck it behind the girl’s ears.

She wasn’t even pretty.

Kyoko stepped into the apartment, unsure exactly what she was expecting.  Maybe a simple bed and computer with stacks of books scattered across the floor.  Maybe a storage locker full of the guns and weapons Homura had an insane tendency to pull out of thin air.  Maybe even a robot building garage with maintenance for the girl who lived there, like something out of a movie.  But certainly not what lay inside.

_The blonde with curly twintails stood inside a pleasant room with bright colored rugs and a couch.  She beckoned Kyoko inside and gestured to one of the seating areas.  “Have a seat!”  She smiled as Kyoko plopped down on the couch, stretching herself out almost completely across the thing.  She spread her arms across the back and propped her booted feet up on the glass table.  Mami moved into the kitchen and began rummaging in the refrigerator, searching for something with the clinking and tinkling of glass containers hitting each other._

_“What’cha looking for?” Kyoko asked, sitting upright and dropping her feet from the table.  She grimaced at the marks she left on the clear table and began rubbing at it with her hand, which didn’t make it any better.  The mud just spread further across the table, turning it from a clear complexion to something like watered down coffee.  Then she noticed the muddy tracks she left across the hardwood floor and the spot next to the door where Mami had left her own heeled uniform shoes.  “Um…Mami?”_

_Her companion poked her head around the wall separating her from the living room.  “What’s wrong?”  She laughed as she watched her friend furtively wipe at the glass table.  Kyoko kept swiping at it, hoping that she could get more of the mud off, but the more she tried, the more it seemed to just expand.  And the wiping only got it all over her jacket, so that now she was afraid to lean back on the couch anymore for fear of getting the mud all over the couch.  She shook the jacket off and began using it as a paper towel, trying to clean it up with that.  It seemed to be working a lot better._

_Mami stepped out of the kitchen and into the room, carefully avoiding each of the mud footprints on the floor.  She placed a hand on Kyoko’s now quite bare shoulder.  The touch made her skin tingle with warmth.  “It’ll be ok.  I’ll clean it up later, alright?”_

_It wasn’t really a question, and she knew without a doubt that this girl would do so almost as soon as she left.  Mami was one of the cleanest girls she had ever met.  Then again, other than school, witch hunting, and their time together soon after, Mami didn’t have anything else to do with her life.  The house was empty of anything but the barest necessities, like food, a couch, and a bed.  What she had may have been bright and colorful, but it was sparse._

_That was one of her favorite things about Mami – although she most certainly had the money to shower herself with unnecessary trivialities, she didn’t.  She understood the value of a dollar in the same way that Kyoko herself did, although for entirely different reasons.  Kyoko’s was one born of poverty, but Mami had to remember that her every dollar came from the corpses of her parents and her ill-worded wish._

_Kyoko nodded and leaned her head against Mami.  The other girl seated herself on the arm of her couch and cradled her friend’s head against her ample chest.  She stroked Kyoko’s hair without thinking, her fingers snagging at the black ribbon bow.  Kyoko undid her hair, taking it out of the ponytail and letting it flow freely down her back.  She knew as she closed her eyes that Mami felt secure in petting her hair, and she felt content just sitting there._

She would never feel content sitting here.

Homura’s apartment was just as sparse as Mami’s and nearly as homey.  Or, at least, it would be if not for the fact that it was Homura’s apartment.  The entirety was bland and colorless – more trends of grey with the occasional accent of blue or red – than the bright welcoming atmosphere of Mami’s apartment.  Furthermore, there wasn’t a kitchen in sight.  Kyoko kicked off her brown boots at the door, leaving them on the mat.  The tile floor was cold beneath her bare feet, even though the rest of the room felt much warmer than it had outside.  She followed Homura into the living room, where a muted red futon-shaped couch waited.  The girl gestured to it before heading out of the room.

Kyoko sat on the couch, tucking her feet under her legs to keep them warm, then poked at the fabric.  It was firm.  Too firm to really be called comfortable, but not so firm as to be rock solid.  The fabric itself wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t scratchy either.  Just…somewhere in-between everything and just enough to the wrong side that Kyoko felt a little…off sitting there.  She pulled the packet of Pocky out of her pocket and set it on the wooden coffee table in front of her.  This room was far too quiet.

“What’cha looking for?”

Just as soon as she asked, Homura appeared again, a tower of blankets and pillows in her hands.  “I figured you might want one of these.”  She dropped them down on the floor next to the red couch.  “They should keep you warm enough.”

_She thinks I’m staying here overnight_ , Kyoko thought as Homura sat in the blue chair next to her and placed her hands calmly in her lap.  Sitting this close, she could see the gentle waves in her partner’s hair, the snags and tangles between one curve and the next.  Obviously Homura had never met Mami or the blonde girl would have made sure her hair was smooth.  Then again, if Homura and Mami were working together, what was Kyoko here for?  With her lack of magic, she would only bring her former sempai down.

She snatched a blanket and spread it over herself as she lay down along the length of the couch.  It was better than sleeping on the hardwood floor again.  Much better.  Kyoko curled up beneath the blanket to conserve as much heat as she could.  “I’m gonna get some shut eye,” she said, but the words felt wrong coming from her lips.  She closed her eyes, hoping that Homura would walk away and leave her be.

The gentle clacking of Homura’s shoes on the gray tile floor alerted her to the girl’s slowly disappearing presence.  When the sound stopped only a few feet away, Kyoko feigned snoring, hoping that the girl would take the hint and go away.  But Homura just stood there without moving.  Finally, she spoke in words barely above a whisper, so quiet that later Kyoko would swear that nothing was really said.

“I’m sorry.”

The words made Kyoko sit up rapidly, pushing the blanket back, her red eyes wide open.  But there was no one there.  She shivered once again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold.

_I’m never doing this again, no matter how much I need warmth.  This is so not worth it._

Kyoko cradled herself beneath the blanket again, forcing her eyes to shut, to let herself sleep.  She trusted Homura with her life in battles against witches, so why did she have such a hard time trusting that the girl wouldn’t murder her in her sleep?  Perhaps it was the vague apology that gave her comfort and finally allowed her to sleep.  She understood the regret that hid in those feeble words for the many times she’d uttered them where no one but herself could hear them.

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Kyoko stood in front of the remains of her old house.  Black ashes stirred in the wind; she feebly wiped them from her red-rimmed eyes.  For days, she had been unable to cry.  Even when she found her father’s body, her mother’s, her sister’s – no tears then, either.  Only shock, resignation, acceptance.  The fire was the genius stroke of a mind made steady by all the unexpected events in a witch fight.  She was used to dealing with random stuff like this.  And maybe it hadn’t happened as directly to her before, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still think straight.  Mami, for all her joy and exuberant cheer, was extremely logical and precise when it came to witches.  She’d been able to impart a little of that to her protégé._

_A protégé who now realized she could never return to her golden-haired sempai._

_No, she couldn’t call her that anymore.  That relationship was broken.  It had to be.  With her magic gone, she couldn’t expect Mami to protect her.  She wouldn’t put her in danger like that.  This curse was her own, and she would hold it to herself.  If she died, she would die alone._

_A deep breath of ashy air later, and Kyoko transformed out of her red costume, leaving only her sooty clothes.  She was going to need to clean these eventually.  Or maybe, when she got new ones, she would burn these, too.  Anything to get rid of the past._

_Anything._

* * *

 

Homura lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.  It didn’t seem logical to bring Kyoko here.  The delinquent would have been just fine on her own.  This had been true of every other timeline so far.  In fact, the redhead did far better when she didn’t associate with Homura at all.  In those cases, she was sure to live.

So why had she invited her here?

She turned over in her bed, aching at the warmth.  She shoved one of the covers off, allowing only the sheets to cover her small, thin frame.  Sleeping was a waste of time.  If she slept, she’d miss something.  Some witch, somewhere, would attack Madoka.  Or perhaps the girl would contract sometime in the middle of the night.  This hadn’t happened before, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen now.  After the Oriko anomaly, she’d come to realize that anything could happen.  She might be able to reset the timeline, but when things as random and haphazard as that happened, how could she keep things straight?  She couldn’t guess at everything.  And when she failed, people kept dying.  Madoka most of all.

That didn’t mean she didn’t regret seeing what it did to the others – to Mami, to Sayaka, to Kyoko.  Mami was her first mentor; Sayaka her second friend.  She might not have met Kyoko if not for the first timeline in which Mami died fighting a witch other than Walpurgis Nacht.  It was only her incessant meddling that brought the redhead here in the first place.  So why shouldn’t she, given the opportunity, let her stay here, where it was warm?

There had been timelines – so many timelines – in which she’d preferred Kyoko’s company to anyone else’s, save Madoka.  Sayaka was too caught up in her quest for justice and her idolatry of all things magical girl, and Mami was too fragile for Homura to spend much time with her as she was now.  She wanted to talk to the blonde, to let her comfort her in the motherly way she always had in previous timelines, but…after seeing what became of Mami when the girl found out the truth about witches…that connection was gone.  She couldn’t speak to Mami truthfully anymore; she had to lie to her.  The only one sane enough for her to spend any time with was Kyoko.  She could be herself around the girl.  In fact, in most timelines, Kyoko was the only magical girl Homura could even call a friend.

She’d seen the church, watched her friend shiver.  With the possibility – probability – of Kyoko’s death looming in the near future…she had to give the girl what she could.  Even if it was for only one night, even if she only felt that way tonight.

Homura glanced at the picture of her father sitting on her nightstand.  Despite his absence, she longed for him to be there.  He would have been able to say something to help her in a time like this.  Maybe, in the future, she could spend her time looking for him.  Maybe when she knew Madoka was going to be safe.

Hopefully that would be soon, but Homura wasn’t sure how much hope she had left.  Right now she was just running on stubborn belief, and even that was running thin.  But giving in would never save Madoka.  So she pressed on.


End file.
